


How The Professor Stole (for) Christmas

by MellowMild



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28191504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowMild/pseuds/MellowMild
Summary: A short drabble for Christmas: The first Christmas after the second heist, Paula asks for a Baby Yoda, and Raquel is puzzled - she already got one for her birthday. When the reason turns out to be something unexpected, the Professor gets the gang back together for another heist.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 27
Kudos: 107





	1. Baby Yoda

_I would like to see the baby.  
_ **_The Client, The Mandalorian Chapter 7_ **

****

_Palawan  
_ _First December after second heist  
_ Raquel walks into the living area, her arms full of Christmas decorations, and spots her daughter sitting at the dining table with an array of colourful pencils around her. Paula has insisted on making her own Christmas cards this year and Raquel smiles to herself, pleased. She has worked hard to ensure that Paula knows the value of things; she doesn’t want her to become spoiled just because they are fabulously rich. Besides, they can’t splash their money around, for that will only raise suspicion. Even though the authorities think that they all died in the explosive end to the Bank of Spain heist, they will continue to keep a low profile, to enjoy living without the constant threat of discovery. It was Sergio’s decision to come back to Palawan after a few months of continuous movement, because he believes this is the last place the police will look for them after they tracked Raquel’s call to the Philippines during the last heist. His premise is that the police will think they aren’t stupid enough to return to a hide-out the authorities know about and she hopes he is right; she likes it here, and so does Paula and her mother.  
“Hey, you want to give me a hand with the tree?” she asks, and Paula comes over with a smile. Like all kids, she loves hanging shiny tinsel on stuff. Raquel hands her a box, before busying herself with the task of untangling the string of lights. “How’s your wish-list coming?” There was only three weeks till Christmas, so she wants to get the buying of the presents out of the way as soon as she can. At least Sergio’s is already sorted – she just hopes it will arrive in time.  
“Oh, I’m done,” Paula says, then digs in her pocket and hands over a folded piece of paper.  
“Great, let’s see,” Raquel smiles, and sets down the tangled ball of lights to fold open the paper. Perhaps she should leave them to Sergio anyway – he has a lot more patience than she does.

She glances over the list, but her eyes quickly return to the first item when she belatedly registers what it says: _Baby Yoda/The Child/Grogu_. She is momentarily amused – to Sergio’s chagrin she and Paula keep calling the little green creature from _The Mandalorian_ TV programme Baby Yoda, even though that is not its real name, and Paula has clearly added the character’s official names to butter him up.  
“A Baby Yoda?” she says, looking up at her daughter. “But you already got one for your birthday. Why would you want another one?” She still remembers the extraordinary lengths Sergio had to go to for that birthday present – the soft toys sell out as fast as Disney can produce them, and to get one here, in Palawan, required all his ingenuity and contacts. Paula’s eyes slide away from hers guiltily and Raquel straightens as she begins to suspect what is going on. “Paula?” she says, a warning note creeping into her voice, “You do still have the other one, don’t you?”  
The girl shakes her head mutely, and Raquel huffs angrily. “You lost it? Damn it, sweetie, what have I told you about looking after your things?”  
Paula looks up sharply and protests, “I didn’t lose it!”  
When she doesn’t continue, Raquel plants her hands on her hips and demands, “Well?”  
“…I gave it to someone,” she mumbles eventually, and now Raquel is truly angry. If Paula has given it to some stupid boy to impress him, she is going to lose it.  
“You what?!”

Paula, sensing that she is perilously close to losing her Internet privileges, hastens to explain. “I took it to school for Show and Tell and there were these kids who live in that house on the corner with the old lady and they didn’t know who Baby Yoda is because they don’t have a television and can’t afford Disney Plus so I downloaded the episodes and showed them during break and they really liked it-“ she finally breaks off to take a breath as Raquel watches her with a frown, trying to make sense of the stream of words, “-and then last week it was Jasmine’s birthday and I asked what she got and she got sad and said nothing and I felt bad for her so I gave her my Baby Yoda so she would also get a present on her birthday because I know that Sergio is good at getting things and he’d get me a new one.”

She watches her mother anxiously as Raquel ponders the overload of information, then pushes a hand through her hair and sighs.  
“Hang on, kiddo. Let’s try this one more time, nice and slow. What ‘house on the corner’ are you talking about?”  
“The big one we pass a block from the school, with the red roof.”  
Raquel knows it now; it’s a rather dilapidated, ramshackle affair, but the yard is always neat and clean. “And you say it’s owned by an old lady who looks after some kids?”  
Paula nods. “Yeah, Jasmine’s parents died and she had nowhere to live, and Mrs Diwata took her in, so she lives there now.”  
“Hmm.” Raquel knows the house is not on the list of official care homes, because they make regular donations to all of those on the island. But she also knows that there are many unregistered ones, run by good Samaritans, because the government can’t afford to provide enough - the number of street kids are testament to that. “How many kids live there?”  
“There’s ten – six girls and four boys. Jasmine likes it – she says Mrs Diwata is kind and tries her best, but she doesn’t have a lot of money and can’t afford to buy them presents.”  
Raquel’s heart breaks a little. How unfair life often is. She would love to do something for them, especially during the upcoming festive season. “Do you know if they celebrate Christmas?” she asks, and Paula frowns.  
“Doesn’t everybody?”  
“No, sweetie. Remember I told you that some religions don’t?”  
“Oh, yes.” She thinks for a moment, then says, “Jasmine and the others don’t go to mosque on Fridays, if that’s what you mean.”  
Raquel nods and sits back, deep in thought.

-0-

 _Late night  
_ Raquel is sprawled on Sergio’s chest, catching her breath after a rather energetic bout of love-making as the sweat gradually cools on her skin in the breeze that flows over them through the open screens. She adores these times, when they lie naked and entwined together after sex, lost in their post-coital high. Sergio loves to cuddle after sex, and not a day goes past that she is not grateful that he is different from most other men in that respect. His chest heaves under her cheek as he sighs happily, his fingers trailing absently through her hair. She smiles against his skin and moves her cheek to and fro, like a cat rubbing up against a leg. “Paula wants a Baby Yoda for Christmas,” she announces, and feels his muscles contract as he moves his head to look down at her.  
“A Grogu, or The Child,” he corrects reflexively, and she smirks affectionately. It seems not even a serious case of afterglow can shake him out of his pedantic insistence on the correct name. Then he frowns and adds, “Another one?”  
She shifts until she can rest her chin on his chest and look into his eyes. “Funny you should ask,” she responds, then proceeds to tell him the whole story.

He listens without interruption, another thing she loves about him. He does not have the male penchant for overriding anyone who’s talking with his own opinions before he has heard the full story. When she falls silent, he mulls over what she said before he asks, “Those episodes are not available for download legally; who taught her how to download them?” But even as he asks the question, he knows the answer already, and she doesn’t say anything. “Rio,” he supplies, and she smiles slightly.  
“Mhm.”  
“I’ll have a word with him,” he promises, and she smooths her hand over his chest.  
“Thanks.”  
Then he sighs. “It will be impossible to get another Grogu in time for Christmas – she’ll be so disappointed,” and Raquel’s heart swells with affection for him. He adores Paula, and she loves him all the more for it. Things could have been so different, so much more awkward.  
“But she will still be surrounded by her family and get other presents on Christmas,” she points out gently, “unlike those poor kids in that unregistered children’s home.” She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t demand that they do something, because she knows him, knows he hates the unfairness of it just as much as she does, and she is certain that that sexy brain of his is already working on the problem.

-0-

The next day, Rio drops by around midday after being summoned by the Professor. In the months that have passed since the conclusion of the second heist, all the surviving members of the gang have gradually gravitated to South Asia, closer to each other. They have become a family, and now that the authorities think they are dead, there is no need for them to scatter to the four corners of the earth anymore. Rio lives in Indonesia, and it is only a short hop from there to Palawan. He greets the Professor with a hearty hug, before he looks around the deserted house. “Where is everybody?”  
“Raquel has gone to pick Paula up from school, and Marivi and her carer is out for a walk on the beach.” Then Sergio plunges straight in. “You showed my daughter how to illegally download _The Mandalorian_ episodes from the Internet,” he accuses, and Rio grins and shrugs.  
“Sure. She wanted to show it to some poor kids who can’t afford Disney Plus, and I thought that was rather cool.”  
Sergio secretly agrees with that assessment, but he is also acutely aware that Raquel would prefer Paula not to follow in their criminal footsteps, so he fixes Rio with a stern look. “We’ve talked about this, Rio, and I mean it – I don’t want you to teach her these things.”  
The young man holds up his hands. “Fine, I won’t do it again,” he promises, but points a finger at Sergio’s chest. “But what Disney is doing is unfair – why should kids miss out on the fun of _The Mandalorian_ just because they’re poor?”  
Sergio nods, deadly serious now. “There I agree with you wholeheartedly – hence my request last night. Have you found anything?”  
Rio grins cheekily. “Oh yes. I think I’ve found what you’re looking for.”

-0-

That evening, once Raquel has settled Paula and her mother for the night, she wanders into Sergio’s study, where he is bent over the desk, busily writing and sketching in his notebook. There are nautical charts strewn all over the desk, and also construction plans for what looks like freight ships. “Hey,” she says, coming up behind him and running her hand through the hair curling in his neck, “still busy?”  
His hand finds hers on his shoulder and pulls her round the chair, then onto his lap, and she comes willingly. “Just finishing up.”  
“Good,” she declares, a glint in her eye, and swings one leg over so that she straddles him, her dress riding up her thighs, and puts her arms around his neck. Sergio immediately runs his hands up the newly exposed skin, rucking up the dress even further, and leans in to kiss her without hesitation. She reciprocates ardently, her hunger for him never far from the surface and her fingers already fumbling for his shirt buttons. God, will she ever tire of having him inside her? She sincerely hopes not as she shifts her hips forward to press against the growing bulge in his trousers and he gasps into her mouth, the heat of her core shooting straight to the centre of desire in his brain. His hands run up her sides, before they detour to her breasts to caress and fondle. She has his shirt open now and things escalate quickly, as they both become impatient to feel skin against skin.

They break the kiss so that he can pull the dress over her head, and as he reaches behind her to unclasp her bra she expertly unbuckles his belt and pulls down his zipper. She briefly dismounts to pull her underwear down and off, and he lifts his hips so that she can shove his trousers down to his ankles as well. By now he is hard and hot, his cock standing proudly erect and already beginning to weep with pre-cum, eager for her. They come together again, naked now, and she takes him in hand and positions him, then sinks down slowly on his shaft. Oh, fuck, it feels so good, to be filled by him, to feel the velvety hotness of his cock against her inner walls, and she bites her lip at the sheer deliciousness of it. They exhale together once he is fully sheathed, always so in tune, and the corners of her mouth quirk with the ghost of a smile. His left hand finds her breast once more, and his fingers trace around her areola and over the stiff nipple, and it is her turn to gasp. She lifts herself and sinks down again in reward, and his eyes darken.  
“I spoke to Rio,” he informs her, “he won’t do it again,” and thrusts up into her, making her head tip back in pleasure.  
“Thanks,” she breathes, sliding her hand over his shoulder and up his neck as she bucks into him once more. Then she grins. “You’re secretly proud of what she did, aren’t you?”  
She knows he is incapable of lying when he is buried inside her, and when she swirls her hips and grips his length with her inner muscles, he is overwhelmed by a wave of lust that clouds his brain. “Ah… Yes, I am,” he confesses and she laughs low and throatily.

Two can play at this game, however, and his hands drop to her hips and grip hard. “But so are you,” he declares without any doubt, then demands, “admit it.”  
She begins to shake her head, intent on lying through her teeth, but before she can get the words out he slams up into her, hard and deep, once, twice, and she grabs onto his shoulders and digs her nails into his skin. “Fuck, yes, Sergio,” she moans, undulating against him in a wordless plea for more. But he keeps still, waiting her out, and she glares at him. “You play dirty,” she complains and he smirks unrepentantly.  
“You started it.”  
That is true, and she is too desperate for more of that delicious friction to keep up the pretence. “All right, fine, I admit it – I’m proud of what she did, too.” He barely gets a chance to grin in victory before she rips the glasses from his face and demands, “Now for the love of God, Professor, will you please fuck me?”, and the words destroy the last vestiges of his control. There is no more talking as they strive together, finding a fast and hard rhythm, eyes locked together, lost in each other. He slams into her with total abandon, and she meets him thrust for thrust, using her legs for leverage, until he begins to see stars, and when she shatters with a high-pitched moan and her inner muscles contract around him in waves, he follows her over the cliff and empties himself inside her. She collapses against him and presses her face into his neck, and he turns his head and buries his nose in her hair and breathes her in, until it no longer feels like his heart is about to explode in his chest.

When she eventually lifts her head, he pulls back and smiles blearily, and she fumbles for his glasses on the desk behind her and puts them back on his face. There is a smudge on the right lens but he doesn’t care, still floating on his post-orgasmic cloud. Now that she is once more in focus, he can marvel at the sight she makes, for thoroughly-fucked Raquel is one of his favourites to gaze at. Her hair is dishevelled (by his eager hands), her skin is flushed and glowing with sweat, and her expression is one of unadulterated adoration as she gazes at him and traces her fingers over his cheek. “That was wonderful, darling,” she murmurs, and his eyes shine with pride as he captures her mouth and tastes her as deeply as he has just penetrated her. They kiss until he softens and slides out of her, and she pulls back with a sigh. Her eye catches a diagram of what looks suspiciously like a miniature submarine on the wall behind him, and she looks at him curiously. “What are you working on?”  
He smiles and runs a few strands of her hair through his fingers as he announces proudly, “Plan Disney.”

_tbc_


	2. Plan Disney

_I will help you. I have spoken.  
_ **_Kuiil, The Mandalorian Chapter 1_ **

_Three days later  
_ _Manila  
_ The surviving members of the gang have been gathered by the Professor in a large house in Manila. It is situated on a hill overlooking the harbour, and now he stands in front of them as they sit around the dining table, Lisbon at his shoulder. In times like these they feel the absence of their fallen friends particularly intensely, and Raquel keeps a close on Sergio, ready with a comforting hand or word if he should falter. There has been so much loss for him to cope with – Berlin, Moscow and Oslo during that first heist, and then Nairobi, Tokyo and Palermo during the second. Six deaths… It is a heavy toll, and she knows that it lies on his conscience, no matter how many times she tells him it is not his fault. But he seems upbeat enough, perhaps buoyed by the knowledge of what they are about to do, and why they are doing it. For those less fortunate than themselves, in this season of giving.

“Welcome, again,” he begins, and that garners many smiles and a few good-natured eyerolls. Behind him, on a flip-board, the words ‘Plan Disney’ are written in bold, big letters. “I have asked you to gather here to discuss a new heist-“  
“Hey, Professor,” Denver interrupts, “aren’t you going to spell out those useless rules of yours first?” He snickers and turns to Mónica, who shakes her head with a broad smile. The suggestion leads to general laughter, and the Professor smiles indulgently and pushes his glasses up his nose in that now-familiar gesture.  
“I think that ship has sailed,” he says, looking over at Raquel with soft eyes, who grins at the unintended pun. Then he turns serious once more. “Lisbon will give you some background, to explain why we’re here.”  
She steps forward. “We were recently made aware of the existence of an unofficial children’s home in Palawan, that houses ten children at present. It is well-run, by an old local woman, who does what she can with the limited resources she has. The children do not lack for love, but unfortunately the same can’t be said about other things, like clothes and sometimes even food.”

The room sobers at this information; everyone here knows what it is like to live on the margins of society, to endure hardship. It’s what forced most of them into their thieving ways, after all.  
Lisbon continues, “And they will most certainly have to do without presents this Christmas.” Denver shakes his head at that. “One of the girls is in Paula’s class at school, and she has taken it upon herself to download the episodes of _The Mandalorian_ from the Internet, and to show it to the girl and the others.” She can’t help but give Rio a reproving look, but he is expecting it and carefully avoids eye contact. “She knew they couldn’t afford a television, never-mind to subscribe to Disney Plus, and she didn’t want them to miss out on the fun.” She sees many admiring nods and knows that, just like her and Sergio, the others approve of her daughter’s actions. “They all love it, and Paula even gave her Baby Yoda soft-“  
“Grogu, or The Child,” Sergio interjects.  
“-her _Baby Yoda_ soft toy to this girl for her birthday,” she persists to the amusement of the others. “So, Sergio and I would like to replace Paula’s Baby Yoda,“ Sergio opens his mouth, but shuts it again when she glares at him, “and also give all ten kids some _Mandalorian_ merchandise for Christmas. The problem is, it is simply impossible to get hold of it in time.” She pauses, then adds meaningfully, “Legally, at least.”  
That is Sergio’s cue, and he turns to the flip-board. “Hence Plan Disney,” he announces.

Mónica’s eyes light up. “So we’re going to steal the merchandise?” she asks, and the Professor pauses.  
“Erm… Sort of, but not really. It will be more like an unauthorised shopping spree,” he responds, and she tilts her head curiously. “Who are we going to do this ‘unauthorised shopping’ from?”  
“From the Disney company itself.”  
This announcement is met with general approval, and Rio says what they are all thinking. “Excellent. It will serve them right for exploiting all those workers in China who make the merchandise for them, and for preventing poor kids access to Disney Plus.”  
Marseille, though, ever practical, frowns. “But how, Professor? Disney is in America.”  
The Professor gestures at him, delighted. “That is a very good point, Marseille.” He looks around the room, unable to hide his self-satisfaction at the plan he has come up with. “But like Rio said, the merchandise is manufactured in China, and it so happens that a freight ship full of containers destined for Disney will dock here in the Manila harbour in a few days’ time.” All eyes turn to the harbour, that lies below them in full view, and then Denver laughs.  
“Hell yeah,” he proclaims, and that sums up the mood in the room rather succinctly. There is not a single objection, and Raquel’s chest swells with pride. These folk, her new extended family, are good people, and she knows they will do what it takes to give those kids a proper Christmas.

The Professor holds up a warning finger, though. “I want to make it very clear that we’ll only take what we need, and nothing more,” he warns, eyeing them sternly. “We’ll get four Mandos for the boys, and one Kara Dune and six Grogus for the girls and Paula-“  
“Seven,” Raquel says, and Sergio frowns in confusion.  
“Paula’s friend gets the Kara Dune action figure because she already has a Grogu, so there are only five girls who should get one, plus Paula’s,” he objects, and she shrugs with a cheeky smile.  
“Sure, but Baby Yoda is so cute, I want one too,” she announces, and Monica immediately raises her hand.  
“In that case, better make it eight.”  
After that there is a general clamour as the rest of the gang adds to the wish-list, and the Professor sighs in defeat. It seems most, if not all of them, remain kids at heart. Oh well. He may just as well then add a Razor Crest model kit for himself…

-0-

_Two days later  
_ Rio sits back in his chair, grinning triumphantly. The Professor, who has been pacing behind him, perks up. “Yes?” he says, and Rio nods.  
“Yes, done. I’ve changed the loading manifest for the ship – the container we’re interested in will be right at the stern, easily accessible.”  
“Good, good.” The Professor rubs his hands together. “Now for the next step.” He rummages among a number of folders strewn over the desk, and selects one to hand to the computer whizz. “This is one of the crew members – I need you to issue an international warrant of arrest for him.”  
Rio cracks his fingers. “No problem,” he declares, and sets to work. The Professor watches as his fingers fly over the keys, doing his bidding, and smiles. The pieces are falling into place, and now all that is needed is an anonymous tip-off to the Philippine authorities.

-0-

_23 December  
_ _Manila  
_ The Professor watches the ship enter the harbour and dock at the berth Rio has assigned to it – the one that will provide the best cover for what he intends to do. On the pier a welcoming party awaits it – a bunch of Philippine police officers and a lone representative from Interpol – a short, plump, dark-haired woman with large glasses perched on her nose. He smiles. Lisbon is unrecognisable in the fat-suit and wig as she stands among the men, frowning officiously. His initial reservations at putting the woman he loves in danger, in the middle of a police operation, disappeared as soon as he saw her come out of the room in the disguise. There is no doubt that she is the best person for this job, with her police background. She knows all the jargon, all the procedures, and she slid back into the skin of a police officer with consummate ease. She will not slip up; if something goes wrong with this heist, it will not be as a result of her. He observes as she marches up the gangplank as soon as it is lowered and squares up to the Captain of the freighter. She waves the arrest warrant under his nose, and he unhappily obeys her order to gather the whole crew on the foredeck. The Professor counts them carefully, twice, to make sure they are all accounted for, before he nods at Rio who is poised in front of a computer. “Now, Rio.”  
The young man taps the Enter key, blocking all surveillance signals in the vicinity of the boat, before he looks up at the Professor with a grin. “The ship and surroundings have gone dark,” he confirms, and the Professor lifts a two-way radio to his mouth. “Donald Duck, you may proceed,” he murmurs into it, before he lifts the binoculars to his eyes once more and focusses on the stern.

A few seconds later there are ripples on the surface of the oily water, before a small cigar-shaped object bobs to the surface. Alongside it, two frogmen also breaks through, and one aims a gun with a grapple-hook and shoots it over the rail. The two figures in their black diving suits scale the rope, and the Professor touches a button on the comms panel in front of him and this time speaks into the tiny receiver in Lisbon’s ear. “Cinderella, Happy and Grumpy are aboard.” He watches Denver and Marseille slip over the rail, make a beeline for the container that carries the _Mandalorian_ merchandise and begin to cut an opening with a blow-torch. He shifts his attention back to the foredeck, where Lisbon is laboriously taking the unfortunate crewman’s fingerprints. It is her responsibility to keep the crew tied down there for as long as possible, and she seems to be making a good job of it. When he looks back at the stern, he sees the two men begin to load boxes into a net, ready to be lowered down to the small submarine waiting below. The bigger of the two consults a list and counts the merchandise stacked in the net, before he turns towards the house on the hill and gives a thumbs-up.  
“Donald Duck, stand by to receive,” the Professor says into the radio, and the hatch on the submarine pops up and Bogota appears.  
“Cinderella, Grumpy has confirmed the order, Donald Duck standing by,” he informs Lisbon, as Denver begins to close up the hole they cut in the container once more. “Happy sealing container now,” he confirms to Lisbon once more, and sees her shake her head in apparent confusion as she looks at the hand-held fingerprint scanner. “Two more minutes,” he adds, and smirks as she demands to scan the guy for third time and when he protests, waves her finger in his face and lectures him even though he is a good two heads taller than her. _That’s my girl_ , he thinks proudly, _never taking a step back for any man_.

Marseille lowers the net to the submarine below, where Bogota gathers it in before closing the hatch once more. Within minutes of the whole thing starting, the small submarine sinks below the surface and disappears. The Professor waits until Denver and Marseille have slid down the rope and into the water and collected the grapple-hook, before he speaks to Lisbon again. “Plan Disney complete. I repeat, Plan Disney complete.”  
He watches her hold up her hands in bafflement and smile apologetically, before retreating down the gang-plank, with the rather annoyed Philippine police officers on her heels. She disappears from sight and into the police station at the harbour, and he doesn’t relax until Stockholm, playing the role of chauffeur, reports that Cinderella is safely in the car and on her way back. Only then does he punch the air in delight, happy with how smoothly it all went.

-0-

_Late afternoon  
_ _Palawan  
_ Raquel, Monica and Denver are gathered around the big table on the patio, surrounded by boxes, Christmas wrapping paper and lint. Paula sits at a smaller table, diligently making a personalised card for each of the children to go with the present. They are all in a good mood, joking and laughing as they work. The younger couple and their son have also settled on Palawan, not far from Sergio and Raquel’s place, and the two families spend a lot of time together. Denver picks up his Mando figure, long since de-boxed, and whooshes it around. “Cinci is gonna love his present this year,” he enthuses, making shooting noises as he flies the figure around. “I am a Mandalorian,” he adds in a deep voice, “and we never take off our armour. This is the way.”  
“Hey,” Monica interrupts, nudging his leg with her foot and holding up the present he’s supposed to be wrapping. “Stop playing with your doll and finish wrapping – _I have spoken_.”  
He laughs and takes the present from her. “Huh. Not even Beskar armour can withstand the Stockholm wrath,” he quips to general merriment, and they work on until there are ten beautifully wrapped packages piled up. Raquel helps Paula to stick a card to each, and then stands back with her arm around her daughter. “Good work, sweetie,” she praises, and Paula beams up at her.  
“They’re gonna be so happy,” she grins, and Raquel squeezes her closer.  
“I hope so,” she says, as Sergio comes in from the study.  
“Everything is organised,” he announces. “Helsinki will play Christmas Father and deliver the gifts, and I have found a catering company that will make and deliver a special meal at the house on Christmas morning.”  
Raquel nods at him; they have already made an arrangement with a local supermarket to deliver food and other essentials on a weekly basis from now on, acutely aware that the need for help is not restricted to Christmas only. She catches Sergio’s eye, and they share a wordless moment, each happy that the other is so committed to make a difference where they can.

-0-

When Sergio enters their bedroom that night, Raquel is already in bed, propped up against the pillows and with her newly acquired Baby Yoda soft toy on her lap. The sight brings him up short and he raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re going to bring Grogu to bed?”  
She smirks and raises its tiny little hand, like the character does in the show whenever he uses the Jedi Force. “Make love to me you will,” she intones in a poor imitation of the original Yoda’s gravelly voice, and he can’t help but laugh, before he schools his features into seriousness once more and plays along. “I must make love to you tonight,” he says as though she has planted the thought in his head, and moves over to the bed with a determined glint in his eye. It is her turn to laugh, before she tosses the toy aside and pulls him down on top of her, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. Their passion for each other, always simmering just below the surface, catches fire in an instant and when he runs his hand up her leg and under her nightdress, he finds nothing but skin. He pulls away to look at her, but his hand continues on its journey until it can cup her and his thumb can rub circles over her clitoris.  
“You really had confidence in the Force, huh?” he teases, and she grins wantonly as she pushes his pyjama pants down his hips and as far as she can reach, before using her toes to work it down to his ankles so he can kick them off.  
“Darling, I saw the way you looked at me after the heist. I think we both know I didn’t actually need the Force – you always get randy if one of your plans come off,” she declares smugly.

He stares at her, then lets out a breathy laugh, for she is right – they tend to have spectacular sex during these times, but it does take two to tango, and he does not shirk away from reminding her of that. “True,” he admits as he increases the pressure on her clit and an involuntary moan of pleasure escapes her, “but then, so do you.”  
“Oh good,” she gasps, pressing herself into his hand, seeking more stimulation, “you noticed,” as she grabs hold of her dress and pulls it over her head, suddenly impatient to have no more barriers between them. As soon as it is out of the way he takes her into his arms, pressing skin against skin, and she smiles up into his face fondly. God, how she loves him. Her hands run up his arms and over his shoulders, then into his hair as she asks playfully, “So, what did you get me for Christmas?”  
But he shakes his head, eyes twinkling mischievously, and instead nudges the head of his penis against her entrance. “Well, I have this for you, but if you want something else I’ll have to run to the store quickly-“  
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she exclaims and clamps her thighs around him as he pretends to pull away, “I’ll take it.” Then she adds, unable to resist, “I’ll take all six inches of it,” before she lifts her hips into his and invites him to push inside. And as they exhale together at the sheer thrill of it and smile into each other’s eyes, connecting on more than the physical level, she silently thanks the universe for the gift of the man she holds in her arms, for the chance to fall in love again, and to be cherished and adored in return. She knows, as she gives herself over to his thrusts, to the sensation of being filled and completed by him, that she is one of the lucky ones this Christmas, and that there are many people out there who are much less fortunate than her.

This year, at least, she gets to do something for at least a few of those, and she finds herself looking forward to it with great anticipation.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who wonder why I do not respond to the comments left on my stories, I would like to clarify the following:  
> 1\. I am grateful for each and every reader who takes the time to comment, and I read them all and treasure your kind words. They inspire me to continue writing for this fandom.  
> 2\. I have very limited time to devote to this hobby, and do not want to just rush off a response when you have taken your valuable time to leave a comment.  
> 3\. I prefer that you leave a comment because the story moved you to do so, whether positive or critical, and not because you feel obliged to because I responded to your previous comments.  
> 4\. AO3 is an open forum and anyone can read the comments, and I am not comfortable interacting on such open forums where words are too easily misconstrued or taken out of context. I will gladly interact with you via email (see my profile), where I can take the time needed to consider my responses and can do so in private.
> 
> Thank you once again for all the lovely comments on my work, I am truly grateful!


	3. Merry Christmas

_This is the way.  
_ **_The Armorer, The Mandalorian Chapter 3_ **

_Christmas Eve  
_ _Palawan  
_ As the sun sets spectacularly over the ocean, the family gathers around the Christmas tree to open their presents. It looks festive with its tinsel and blinking lights (untangled by Sergio in the end) and Sergio’s chest fills with warmth. Since Raquel, Paula and Marivi have come into his life he treasures these holidays, forever grateful to be part of a family now. He watches indulgently as Paula excitedly hands out the presents, carefully reading out who it is from before handing it over to the recipient, enjoying her wide-eyed wonder. She is still young enough to be swept up in the magic of the occasion, and he relives it vicariously through her. But then, perhaps it has nothing to do with age, he thinks with a smile as he watches Raquel rip the wrapping from one of her presents with childlike glee. Perhaps it has all to do with one’s mindset, so he duly follows her example and dives into his pile. He looks up again when Paula exclaims, “A Baby Yoda!” before she catches his eye and hastily amends, “I mean – a Grogu!” Raquel snickers in the background as the girl jumps to her feet and comes over to fling her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Sergio,” she says against his cheek, and he closes his eyes and savours her hug. Yes, he has so many things to be thankful for now.

-0-

It is late when they retire to bed at last, and Raquel slips her hand into his as they walk to their room. “Paula really loved her presents,” she smiles, and he squeezes her hand.  
“Mm. She was almost more excited about the Kara Dune action figure than Grogu, though,” he remarks, “I think she called the character ‘kick-ass’?” When Raquel nods, he adds, “She’s becoming more like you with every day that passes.”  
It is a compliment and she presses her cheek against his shoulder in acknowledgement. She is happy that her daughter can value a strong female character. And of course, part of the reason that this is the case, is the man next to her. “It helps that she sees that you are comfortable with strong women,” she says as they step into their room, and as soon as the door closes behind them she turns to him and takes him into her arms. “Merry Christmas Eve, darling,” she murmurs, before she kisses him sweetly, and he pulls her tightly against him in response.  
“Merry Christmas Eve, my love.” Then his eyes stray over her head and towards the bed, and he smiles bashfully. “I have another present for you.”  
“Hmm, so I can feel,” she responds, pressing more closely against his growing erection, and he actually blushes.  
“Erm, no, an actual present,” he stutters and nods towards the bed, and when she turns around there is a rectangular package propped against the headboard. When she looks back at him questioningly, he shrugs shyly and pushes his glasses up his nose. “It’s, uhm, your real present, but I didn’t want to give it to you in front of the others.”

Intrigued, she walks over and picks it up. It is too heavy for a lingerie box, but she can’t think what else he won’t want her to open with the rest of the family present. She tears off the wrapping to reveal a beautifully framed picture, and when she registers what it is tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, Sergio,” she breathes, overcome, and he swallows hard in response too. She stares at it, at the photo of the two of them, caught gazing at each other in a candid moment, and surrounded by the four postcards he had given her all those years ago, the coordinates showing. There is so much history captured there, and it is almost too much to process. She puts it down on the dresser reverently, facing the bed, before she goes over to him and takes his face in both hands to kiss him. “I love it,” she tells him, and he sighs in relief.  
“Good.” Then, emboldened by her reaction, he adds, “And I still have that other present for you as well,” as he presses his hips into hers.  
She grins and runs a hand over his chest. “Before we get to that, I have another gift for you too.”

He watches in bemusement as she goes over to her wardrobe and rummages among her lingerie, before she returns with a smallish square box. He can tell she is excited by the sparkle in her eyes, and by the way her words almost trip over each other as she says, “I was worried it wouldn’t get here in time, but luckily Marseille managed it.”  
“Marseille?” he echoes as he turns it over in his hands; he doesn’t have an inkling as to what it can be.  
“Open it,” she prods, impatient to see his reaction, and he obliges and pulls off the bow before he lifts the lid, and freezes.  
It can’t be.  
He blinks once, twice, before he reaches out and touches it wonderingly, then he looks up at her, lost for words.  
She can see that he is about to break down, so she takes the box from his hands and lifts the watch out. It is his watch, the one he inherited from his father, and that he sacrificed to save her during Plan Paris. She had asked Marseille to get it back from Antonanza, and he used a pick-pocket he knows to steal it off the policeman’s arm in a crowded market. And now she can give it back to Sergio, because she knows how much it means to him. When she fastens it around his wrist, a tear slips down his cheek, and she smiles softly and reaches up to wipe it away. “There. It’s back where it belongs,” she says, continuing to caress his cheek and gazing at him. “I hope you know how grateful I am that you were willing to part with it – for me – and that I will never forget what you did for me. I love you very much.”  
That is the last straw, and he engulfs her in his arms and presses his face into her hair. It is the most thoughtful gift he has ever received, and he can’t find the right words to express his overwhelming gratitude. Instead he says, “And I hope you know that I would give it up again, for you.”

There are other ways than words to convey gratitude, and when he picks her up and deposits her on the bed, pulls off her pants and then sinks down to his knees between her legs, she smiles in delight. He sets to work with single-minded determination, aware how much she enjoys oral sex, alternating between her labia and her clit. The sensation of his raspy tongue on both those sensitive areas drives her wild, and within minutes she is incoherent from the pleasure and her chest flushed with arousal. Her hands are in his hair, making a mess of it and clawing at his scalp, and when he bites down on her clit her back arches off the bed and she tugs at his hair. “God!” she moans, and he looks up at her with smouldering eyes.  
“You like that?”  
“You know I do,” she retorts, unceremoniously shoving his head back down between her legs and he smirks against her inner thigh, delighted to render her so wanton, so out of control. He gives one long, hard, slow lick up her slit before he sucks that pleasure bundle between his lips once more and bites down again, a little harder this time, and her thighs begin to tremble with the effort of keeping her orgasm at bay. For it is Christmas, after all, and she knows how much he loves to be inside her when she comes. “Get up here,” she begs, and his face lights up. He undresses in the blink of an eye but even that is too long without further stimulation for her, and she reaches down and strokes herself, not caring that he is watching. A sound almost like a growl escapes him, and then he is above her, swatting her hand out of the way so that he can enter her. When he begins to push inside slowly, she shakes her head and says desperately, “Hard,” and he grabs hold of her hips and slams home. The sensation of him bottoming out inside her is enough to make her shatter, and she orgasms, her muscles rippling around him with the force of it. He watches in adoration, rubbing her clit with his thumb to prolong it, until she is spent and limp underneath him. Only then does he cover her body with his, and with supreme self-control begins the gentlest of thrusts, allowing her to recover.

She strokes his cheek, his neck, his shoulders and arms as she floats down, smiling up at him, until she is ready for more. Then she bucks into him and spreads her legs even wider, and he lets go of his self-control and speeds up. She grips his length on each thrust, increasing the friction until his head begins to swim and he thinks he may pass out, and at long last he is falling, hurtling towards his orgasm, her voice in his ear encouraging him to let go. He is vaguely aware that she falls with him, a second, gentler orgasm washing over her, and they cling together, chest against chest, until it subsides and eventually dies out. They breathe in unison, unconsciously; in, out, in, out, until their heartrates have come down to normal, and only then do they pull apart, but just long enough for him to crawl under the sheet. Once he is settled on his back she snuggles into his side, and he wraps an arm around her and holds her close, a silly smile on his face. She is the only gift he will ever desire, and he has no intention of letting her go, ever. They doze for a while, until she nudges him awake and nods towards his watch.  
“It's time.”

-0-

_Christmas day  
_ _02:00  
_ As he steps into the living room, dressed in black, there is a soft knock on the front door and he goes over to let in Mónica, Denver and Rio. Raquel comes into the room with a sleepy Paula in tow, and once they are all gathered together Sergio looks between them. “All ready?” he asks, and Mónica nods. “The tree is in the car,” she reports, and then Rio holds up a tog-bag filled with gear.  
“Night-vision goggles, heat sensor and laptop,” he declares, and the Professor nods approvingly. Then he turns to Paula, who stifles a yawn as she holds up a box.  
“Decorations and lights,” she says, and he smiles down at her. She insisted on coming along on their early-morning raid, and neither he nor Raquel had the heart to refuse. And so they set off, laden with Christmas paraphernalia, towards the house on the corner.

Denver pulls up a safe distance away and they wait whilst Rio sets up his gear, then points the heat sensor towards the house. Raquel peers over his shoulder and can see eleven glowing human-shaped blobs, all horizontal. “Everyone in bed,” Rio reports, and they slip on their goggles and approach on foot. Denver eases open the rickety front gate, and thankfully it doesn’t squeak as he gently swings it aside. Behind him, Sergio and Mónica carry the modest tree between them, and they proceed up the path to the front door. Once there, Raquel steps forward, lock-pick in hand, and inserts it into the keyhole. It takes less than a minute before there is a click, and she grins in satisfaction and grabs hold of the handle and opens it. They tiptoe inside and to the living room, where they quickly set up the tree in the corner and decorate it. All the while Rio keeps a careful eye on the heat-forms, but no-one stirs. Sergio wraps the string of colourful lights around the tree, and then they are done. He holds out the plug to Paula – all of this is because of her, and she deserves the right to light up the tree. They stand back and take off their goggles, and she presses the plug home to set the lights twinkling. They all smile at the sight, before they leave again as quietly as they came, even locking the door behind them.

On the drive back, Raquel holds Paula on her lap, hugging her close, so proud of her little girl, and happy in the knowledge that in a few hours’ time, ten kids who know and understand the dark side of life better than many adults, will wake up to the sight of a Christmas tree in their home – some of them for the first time ever, perhaps. And then, at eight o’clock, the doorbell will ring and Father Christmas will be there with a bag full of presents, and a little bit later the truck with the food will arrive. They have done it, and the thought warms her more than any expensive gift could have. She reaches for Sergio’s hand and he smiles down at her as he weaves his fingers through hers, knowing exactly what she is thinking. He leans over and presses a kiss to Paula’s head, and the girl looks over to him with a happy grin. “You did good, Paula,” he declares warmly, and she glows with happiness at the praise.  
And as the first hint of dawn begins to lighten the sky, she can’t wait any longer and announces, “This is the best Christmas ever!” After a beat she adds, looking over at her parents, “Merry Christmas, Mama. Merry Christmas, Sergio.” Then, buoyed by the feel-good factor of doing something nice for someone else, she spreads her arms wide and declares in a loud voice, “And merry Christmas to the whole wide world!”

-0-

_One day later  
_ _San Francisco  
_ When Disney opens its latest container of merchandise to arrive from China, there are quite a few boxes missing. To their surprise, there is a large envelope taped to one of the remaining ones and when they open it, they find the exact amount of money to cover the production cost of the missing merchandise, and a note that simply says:  
 _Dear Disney, you have made some poor children very happy for the holidays this year. Thank you, and merry Christmas._

It is not signed, and there are no clues as to who the culprits can be. The workers stand around and look at each other in bafflement, until one finally quips, “Well. Looks like we’ve been visited by the ghosts of Christmas past.”

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everybody!


End file.
